


Lyook

by LittleGreenPlasticSoldier



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bisexual Character, Bisexual Male Character, Boys Kissing, Explicit Sexual Content, Fellatio, First Time, First Time for Everything Fest, I have not paced myself at all, Kissing, M/M, Masturbation in Shower, Mutual Masturbation, Oral Sex, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Pansexual Sam Winchester, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-17
Updated: 2017-04-20
Packaged: 2018-10-20 03:11:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10653690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleGreenPlasticSoldier/pseuds/LittleGreenPlasticSoldier
Summary: Luke is an excellent man.  He’s a firefighter, a father of two boys, and brave and able enough to help Dean and Sam on at least one occasion.  It befuddles you all that his ex-wife left him - especially Sam..This is a timestamp for this seriesThe Force of Habit.  Luke was introduced in chapter 11 (it explains the title), where Dean roundly embarrassed himself with an inferiority complex.  Luke was also very impressive in the epilogue when he helped Y/N save Dean and Sam.  He is modelled on Chris Hemsworth.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [deandoesthingstome](https://archiveofourown.org/users/deandoesthingstome/gifts), [kayteonline (Reading_Is_My_Drug)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Reading_Is_My_Drug/gifts), [SaenaLife](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SaenaLife/gifts), [writingthingsisdifficult](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=writingthingsisdifficult).



The old house is half ablaze, one window engulfed, but the entrance is barely smoking.  The whole crew is there and after a few shouted observations and instructions, Luke runs ahead, expecting others to follow, and rams in the door.  Beyond the flames, the floor seems to be clear.  Luke ducks down, Terry at his shoulder, checking rooms, finding aged furniture, abandoned debris, and as he reaches the kitchen at the back he catches sight of the heel of someone leaving. He dashes for it.

Down the steps and into the back yard, he sees a man high-tailing it toward the back fence.  Scrambling to remove his helmet and unbuckle his tank, Luke gets himself free and runs, because this time he’s got a solid chance of catching an arsonist without leaving the guys short.

He jumps the fence just like the villain and crosses the two-lane road, pretends his suit is cool and easy, pushes himself to catch up with the guy’s speed and sees two more ahead of him, tall and fast, crossing a nearly empty car park and into a local reserve.

Luke pushes his legs, working the stretch and force, focused on closing the distance. There are a few moments where all he can hear is the gritty slap-scratch of four feet on asphalt, his suit noisily folding around him, his bouncing breath, and soon he can hear the nearest runner too.  

It isn’t until the far side of the parking lot, all dark and silver shadows, that Luke reaches him, next to a car, almost tripping on his heels before collecting two handfuls of jacket.  He means to drag him to a stop, get him in some sort of hold, but the guy wrenches himself around, knocks Luke’s arms and grabs his fire jacket as they fall to the ground.  

At speed it’s like an implosion, feet collecting on the curb as they tumble onto the grass and between trees, limbs tangled and jarred.  Luke loses his place for two seconds, focuses on hands and weight, and even though the guy’s got a vice on his sleeve, Luke still manages to get into a crouch, get his toes into the soft dirt.  As he stands, the guy gets up too, pulls him close, yanks him forward off his heels, and Luke’s spare hand grabs his jacket back because _Luke’s_ the one catching _him_.

Then it’s as though the guy has turned them on purpose, catching the moonlight with his face so Luke can see that what he’s caught is a full wet face of gleeful smile and bloodshot eyes, someone driven with unnatural energy.  Luke’s elbows instinctively lock against the body as he gasps, a double-hitch of breath and a choked _Fuck!_  He can taste the guy’s otherness.

Whatever he is, he can laugh, bitter and manic, refreshed by opportunity.  He’s sweaty and marked with soot and blood and as his chin tilts up Luke feels his own face pull back, pale and crawling, knowing that no one should have a full two rows of pointy teeth.  

Their feet push against each other, and Luke’s arms strain. His mind trips on thoughts - _unnatural, strong, stronger? Vampire? Really?_ \- and then he smells the copper and salt inside the sweat, old and earthy and stagnant.  He stumbles back onto the asphalt, holding and pulling and begins to feel like the captive.  He registers a deep holler from within the reserve, and the creature must too because Luke is forced to the side of a car, bent against the curve by hips and a forearm, then a broad hand slaps over his face, palm on his eye and fingers hooking his jaw, to draw his neck long and bare.

Luke snaps, his instinct to fight flaring into fury, and gets his knee up, elbow across, turning, pushing, grimacing, almost tantruming in panic were it not for it actually working.  He bashes an arm, twists his body, and hooks fingers under the high elbow to push and drag the hand off his face, grunting fearfully at the scratches left before the guy gathers his hair and yanks it tight.

Then the push against him jostles, is knocked sideways, yanking him about, and he hears another’s sounds.  Fast nosey breaths and force on fabric, gut-deep grunts of air beaten out, and he suddenly has space.  Luke wraps his hand over the scratches and falls back against the car, watching a tall form wrestle and beat the vampire into the dirt.  The third person arrives, a burly frame that somehow matches the triangular style of the first, and when a deep voice says “Hold ‘im,” Luke’s brain dings _Dean!_

A machete appears, swinging fast and stopping with with a wet _ssch!_ in the soil.

Dean sits back on his heels, puffing heavily, thighs tight and wide.  Sam grunts an _Ugh_ , like _fucking hell_ , and ambles himself off the body, flicking his hair from his forehead and dumping his ass into the ground beside Dean.

“Y’all right?” Dean checks, knocking his knuckles into Sam’s sleeve.

“Yeah,” Sam puffs, and looks up at the guy they saved.  “You okay man?”  He frowns a little in the dark, taking in the fire fighter’s gear.  Sam sees the glistening stripes either side of his ear and down over his fingers and into his collar, and after a second Sam gives a slack smile.

“Hey!” says Dean.  “It’s Lyook!”

…

Even in the moonlight, Luke doesn’t look that flash.  The brothers climb upright and step over to him with concern, Sam reaching his hands out, ready to catch should Luke lose his level.  

“You okay?” Sam asks again, his palm reaching out to put pressure on the cuts, right over Luke’s hand, thumbs aligned, ear between the fingers.  Luke looks at them wide-eyed and slack-jawed.  Dean’s tugging around Luke’s clothes, checking for blood, and Sam’s got his head in both hands, repeating his name, firm and persistent.

When Dean starts to undo his jacket, he shakes out of it with “I’m fine, it’s just the scratches, I’m fine.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, man.  Thanks, I’m fine.”

“Jesus, you had us worried for a minute there,” Dean breathes.  

Sam’s pulls out small a flashlight and moves to Luke’s side to inspect the scratches and Luke lets the big hands roll his skull around.  Everyone’s still puffing a little and Luke feels Sam’s breath blow right into his collar, down into his armpit.  

Sam inspects, grim and peering.  He’s clean shaven and his hair’s a bit shorter, Luke thinks.  He remembers the fierce face he saw that first time, when Sam lunged and stabbed the demons.  

“Well this feels familiar,” Dean grins.

“No stitches,” Sam reports, and gives a small smile, and steps back, hands on hips.  

Luke comes away from the car and stands tall, protective gear resettling and Sam and Dean look at him properly.  Everyone takes a second.  

“You look bigger in this,” Sam tells him.

 _“Bear!!”_  There’s a shout from the back fence of the burning building and Dean and Sam instinctively step backwards, towards the shadows.

“Yeah, I’m good!” Luke yells back.  He pushes off from the car and begins to make his way.

“Bear?” Dean asks.

“Yeah, short for Brereton,” he says and pauses to say, “Text you when we’re done? Grab a drink?”

“Sure thing,” Sam nods.  “Catch you in a bit.”

…

Beer in hand, Sam slides into the booth, meaning to keep an eye on the door, but Dean elbows him along, nods him over, because he’s going to keep an eye on the door.  Sam serves him a grumbling look, shuffles across a little and they sit there, shoulder to shoulder, four eyes on the door.

Dean’s trying to remember Luke’s true height.  He seemed so tall that first meeting, when he got up from the bench stool in Y/N’s kitchen, but he’s really just Sam’s height.  A bit wider in the hips, stockier.  Dean drinks his beer.

Sam recalls the first time he saw Luke, swinging out of the shadows with that bat.  He didn’t even stop to think who he was, Y/N’s description being so spot on.  It was nice to have someone capable come up the rear, so to speak.  Sam takes a sip.

When they’d crashed at Luke’s that night, crash was the operative word.  Luke had put some blankets on the couch and a roll-out on the floor.  Sam conked out on top of the sleeping bag, Dean had barely pulled a blanket across his belly before his jaw fell slack, their faces turned to each other, shoes still on.

Luke made a full breakfast, spending his weekend’s worth of protein and indulgence, and got a lot of satisfaction from Dean’s constant talking with his mouth full, bragging about how far you had come and then insisting they change the topic before he got soppy.  Sam had flicked a look Luke’s way, dimpling a cheek, and later dried the dishes while he described how much better Dean was with you.  But it had been a quick morning since Luke had let them sleep in.

Sam wishes he’d asked Luke more questions about fire fighting, how he liked the job, how he’d qualified.   _Sip_.

Dean wonders if Luke has gotten lucky since his stupid wife left him, and what the pickings were really like in this town.   _Sip_.

Sam wonders whether he’d have made the cut for the brigade, what’d be like to work with a crew. _Sip_.

Sam also wonders if anyone’s snapped up Luke since the divorce. _Gulp_.

When Luke walks in he scans the room for familiar faces and, thankfully, Sam and Dean are the only customers he really knows.  A few others might vaguely ring a bell, but only as “People who saw me do a demo” type connections.  And there is Annabeth, behind the bar, so that’s a slight pinch in the night.

He knows full well why he’s nervous.  Over the past year he’s developed a hunch that men really do have a monthly cycle because Sam and Dean seem to be taking turns in his imaginings.  It’s become a steady fortnightly schedule that alternates between full lips, cheeky eyes, and rumbly chuckles in the morning light, and something else altogether harder, faster, bonier and dominating. _Dominating_ , Luke twitches to himself, _not the word I want but that’s it._

“Luke!  What would you like stranger?”  Annabeth interrupts his thoughts, and he orders a double whiskey with a smile, reminding himself that he needs to damn well not think about any of that this evening.

He slides into the booth with a broad easy grin and a “Hey fellas” and Sam and Dean smile wide in response.  Sam and Dean like catching up with friends and Luke is a rare case - someone who’s not in the life but still serves somehow.  And he’s _like_ them - working strength, purpose-built, tried and tested, sacrificial.

The brothers tilt their view a little and Dean nods “That feelin’ okay?” at Luke’s scratches, the neck portion covered with a patch.

“Yeah, it’s a little tight but fine,” Luke grins.  He doesn’t care about it; he’s happy to see friends from out of town.  “Is Y/N here?”

“Nah,” Dean says. “No, she’s actually visiting a friend.  Someone who needs a bit of help recovering, in Colorado.”  Dean sips and picks at the label. “Been gone about three weeks.”

“How you holding up?” Luke wonders.

“Uuuuh _Yeah_. I’m okay.  A hunt is a good distraction.  Wish she was here to catch up with you though.”

Luke nods at that.  “Me too. Why didn’t you say you’re in town?”

“Uh we tend to wait until the hunt’s over for that,” Sam smiles kindly.  “No point making plans we might miss.”

Dean glares at Sam, shakes his head and says to Luke, “And he’s the optimistic one!”  Luke smiles and sips, looks around the room to calm himself.

Sam and Dean drink their drinks and they talk about you and what’s been going on since then.

Dean sees Luke scanning sometimes.  He imagines people wondering who this local hero is sitting with - Who are those tall strangers? - then realises he’s still riding the ego trip of being hit on some 18 months ago.  He feels a bit silly, then foolish, then has an idea to fix it both ways.  ‘Hang on,” he says and pulls out his phone.  A few taps and he says “Hey babe… Hey guess who we ran into?” and hands the phone over to Luke.

“Y/N!  How are you?”

From across the table the brothers hear your voice clearly saying “Luke!! Oh my God! Are you okay?!”

All three of them laugh, Luke struggling with his “Yeah, I’m fine,” and Sam and Dean listen to him tell you about the fire, Dean filling him in on the vampire using fuel to blow out the fireplace in the old squat house, which the crew had already figured.

Luke describes the fight, glowing descriptions all round - “How’d you get there so fast man?” “How’d you pull that thing offa me?” - and explains how he’d said he just lost track of the culprit, and worried about a body left around.  Dean pointed at himself, nodding sagely, and Luke understood they’d done something to clean up, the blood not even seen in the dark.

“So the guys tell me you’re even more kick-ass than before,” Luke stirs.

“Bit hard to be kick-ass at arm’s length, but yeah, I’m better,” you say.

“You should see Dean’s face when he talks about you,” Luke grins, watching Dean shake his head and look away.  “His pupils go heart shaped and he clutches his beer like it’s a teddy.”

“He’s trying to think of something to say isn’t he?”

Luke laughs, teasing Dean.  “Nailed it.  Oh now he’s blushing-”

“Oh I am not blushing!” Dean grizzles, everyone giggling at him.

“Nah but seriously,” Luke drops his chin to talk to you especially, “I was thinking of you a few weeks ago, how you were starting again back then and then so impressive with the demon thing.  They can’t say enough good things about you.  It’s good.  Nice, you know?”

You wish, just a little, Luke would tell you more, but maybe you can pry a few quotes from Dean later.  “Thanks Luke.  It is.  Hey, how are the boys?”

Luke fills you in and they finish their drinks.  You both promise to talk again before he hands the phone back to Dean.

“I miss you,” you tell him.  “Andy’s getting better but I’m at least three days off the end of it.”

“Yeah, I miss you too.  What are you up to tonight?”

“There’s not much night left for me.  I’ll get up at 3 to check him, so off to bed soon.”

“Hey can I call you in halfa?”

“Uuuh, yeah-”

“From the motel?”

“Yyyyyyes.  Yes you can.”

“Alright.  I’ll call you back-”

“Hey, say Hi for me!” Sam cuts in.

“Hi Sam!” you yell back, and Dean wraps up the call soon after.  “That’s it for me boys,” he announces.  “Luke, you fit to give Sam a lift back?”

“Yeah! Sure,” he says looking to Sam for assurance.  But Sam’s looking at Dean with dry disbelief.  

“What?” Dean asks, arms out.  “What’s your problem?”

“Really? You’d rather go back to the motel room than catch up with Luke?”

“Yeah Sam, I’d rather go back to the motel room I’ll have _to myself_ and talk to Y/N than catch up with Luke.  No offence man,” he adds.

“None taken,” Luke double-chins it.

“Don’t be judgey Sam.  I’ll see ya.”

Sam scoffs a laugh as his brother leaves and Luke says “It’s kinda sweet.”

“Kinda gross, too.  Hey you want another?” Sam asks.

“Yeah sure.”

Sam heads to the bar and waits for two whiskeys.  

Luke looks at him leaning and decides he’s had enough to allow himself a short transgression.  Sam is excellent.  He can’t really tell the detail under all those layers, but he doesn’t care.  Sam’s strong and able, he can move himself with force and precision, and he’s barely got enough fat to warm himself yet Luke already knows the guy runs hot.  Very hot.

So he doesn’t care about whatever style his body might have; he can tell Sam’s worth it. Or would be, if Sam leaned that way.

Sam comes back to the booth, sits opposite Luke and slides the glass across.

Luke goes to take the drink but Sam holds it, saying “A toast,” and locks eye contact.

Luke swallows. “To what?”

“Friends,” he smiles. “They’re damn precious.”

“Yeah,” Luke nods and uses his sipping time to scold himself for threatening this friendship with thoughts of sex. Sex Sam doesn’t even swing for no less.

What follows is the most thorough series of career questions Luke’s ever encountered. Entrance exams, training schedules, ability testing, recruit programs, community service, professional development, everything. And through it all Sam listens intently, asks thoughtful questions, watches Luke explain, lets him ramble and tell stories and seems to get just as lost in it all.

As he listens, Sam notes the depth of Luke’s voice, feeling a bit silly at his own surprise.  It’s always been that deep surely, but it’s different.  Where Dean’s feels dragged down and roughened, Luke’s seems dug deep because he’s relaxed.  He figures he might be maybe an inch taller than Luke, shoes depending, but Luke’s got a different kind of brawn to him.  He’s pretty sure he does, anyway.

As soon as there’s a suitable break Luke asks “Did you want to leave hunting for fire fighting?”

“No,” Sam leans back, toys with his tumbler. “I mean, I considered it when I’s a kid - Dean did too - but this is what I do.”

“You fucking hunt monsters Sam. Sometimes _in_ fires,” Luke reminds him. “It’s pretty impressive.”

Sam frowns thoughtfully, nodding at his glass.  Then he seems to shift gear. He looks at Luke, sits up tall and leans his head back a little.  There’s a second where he’s literally making a decision right there at the table, and his lips squick sideways, for a moment, in calculation. He looks at the door and back at Luke, curious eye contact dragging between them before he runs his tongue around behind his teeth.

Luke watches and hopes he’s okay, but doesn’t get a chance to ask.

“You were telling Y/N about your boys.  How’s that all going?” Sam begins a new topic, apparently wanting to draw out the night.  Maybe he thought Dean would need more time, Luke guesses.

Luke’s not all that keen to talk about the divorce.  “It’s just about done,” he sighs, swirls the last of the last drink.  “She challenged my custody based on character, but it didn’t hold up.  Just took a lot of time, confused the boys.”

“Character based on what?”

Luke chews his lips, works his jaw through a frown and looks around the room: He doesn’t know what Dean has told Sam.

“Because of your sexuality?” Sam asks, eyebrows high.  

Luke nods, relaxes somewhat.

Sam’s brow drops flat and his teeth rub together.  He looks around the room too, hoping no one had been an asshole to one of the nicest guys he’s ever met.  One of the best.

Soon his gaze lands back on Luke, who’s playing with the light in his drink, and he wonders how it is Luke hasn’t been approached by every gay guy and straight woman in town.  Or maybe he has.  But he’s here now, unattached and looking… well…  He’s strong.  He has a nice smile.  The kind of smile that could make a Nanna giggle, truth be told.  Sam supposes women would call him handsome, or hot.  Probably hot.

Sam thinks surely he’s too smart to be tricked by himself.

“Well I’m glad it’s almost over,” Sam says, and smiles with the slightest of shrugs and dimples.  “Have you been able to do anything about that?”  He sips, hiding behind it.

“You mean… my ‘character’?” Luke asks, and Sam’s smile opens up like _Yeah, your ‘character’._  “Uh-uh, no more than your average teenager I’m afraid,” Luke chuckles.  He leans back, crosses his ankles below the table, tucks his hands under his biceps and smiles soft and rueful.  He’s got half a mind reflecting on his own crap fortune and Sam is looking at his shoulders, how tight it all is for him to cross his arms, the slope of his stomach as he leans back and, frankly, a damn good looking blue-eyed smirk.

Luke’s given up worrying and resigned himself.  Sam’s a nice guy, but Luke’s feeling too pathetic for anything more than some nice company.  So when he asks Sam “What about you? How many side’s you bat for?” he doesn’t expect anything cryptic or leading, or even encouraging.

Sam reaches his legs out too, his inner calf sliding up against Luke’s, and says “You know, no one’s actually asked me that before.”

Luke looks up at Sam, and twitches curiously “No one’s made you ask yourself?”

Sam takes a drink.  A slow, evasive drink.  He looks everywhere but Luke, and Luke watches Sam glance around thoughtfully, clench his jaw a few times, head nodding by millimetres, until he does eventually look back at Luke.  And Luke takes a very careful lip-licking moment to properly consider the guy across from him who’s just rubbed a leg against his own.

 _He was flirting,_ Luke thinks. _Listening, attentiveness, eye contact,… that’s Sam flirting. …Isn’t it?_ Luke glances away a little, tossing up logistics: Annabeth, distances, Dean, discretion.  Either way, he has to find out.  Now.  Before Sam leaves town for another year, and before he pretends Sam never said what he didn’t just say.  He has to find out.

Luke leans over, deep voice firm with meaning, “Can I talk to you for a minute?” and gets out of the booth in one move.  He walks to the door, pulling on his jacket, cursory smiles and nods to those he passes, shoves the door out of the way and hears Sam do the same a half second after.  

Outside he goes right, heading for an alley he knows, and Sam catches up as he turns down between the buildings.  Luke pauses a little, looks back at the street to judge the distance, then keeps walking.  The alley widens where one building’s fire escape cuts into the wall - _Jesus, just coz I know every corner of this town, doesn’t mean anyone else knows where to look, too_ \- and Luke chooses there to stop, glancing around as he turns, although there’s nothing to see but brick walls, wire-covered windows and a car.  

Sam comes into the corner too, back to the wall in the few square meters of space beneath the pull-down ladder, and waits to hear what Luke is thinking.

Luke turns to face him, hands on hips, an eye on the street, trying to figure out what the hell he wants to say.  But Sam’s looking at him with a face he’s never seen before, on anybody.  It’s just plain acceptance.  Patient, ready-when-you-are, acceptance.

Luke takes a few steps closer, within arm’s reach, but Sam doesn’t shift.  He studies Sam’s expression, those steady eyes that make you step up, and a mouth that… _Shit_.  Luke saw it: the slightest of dimples and an eyebrow that caught him looking at lips.

It’s enough.  Luke steps forward again, all the way, and puts his mouth, his lips, on Sam’s.  Sam smells… _Perfect_.  It’s been so long since he’s had contact like this, even longer since it was new and exciting, and the sensations of touch and smell… He can feel Sam’s nose against his, his slightly prickly angular chin, and here, where his skin is burning in the night air, he’s getting something he’s only ever dreamed of…  For a breath he doesn’t move in case Sam does.

But Sam stays still, and Luke peeks, finding Sam’s eyes still closed and he’s still there, letting Luke kiss him.  So Luke tries a little more, untucks his lips a bit and moves, that half a nibble, to see what will happen, and Sam does the same, even tilting some.

In reply, Luke moves his mouth against Sam’s, a half-speed kiss for first-time callers, and slowly, gently, puts his hands on Sam’s ribs, settles his palms against the curve, and pulls him against his own body.  

Sam pauses, breaking the kiss to draw a bit of breath, and Luke waits, curses suspended and body unmoving, to see what he’ll do.  He watches Sam swallow and look down at his mouth and over his features, then feels Sam’s hands on his upper arms, pulling slightly, as Sam reaches for another go, a better go.

Luke lets him start it, gives the lead a little, but as soon as he feels Sam’s tongue cross his lower lip he meets him there, tangling and lapping, hoping that this is how he likes it. One hand let’s go of Sam’s chest, but clenches a fist mid-air ‘cause surely holding his head already will freak him out.  He puts it back where it was and takes heart in the strength of the hands that hold him, the way one of them slips round to the back of his shoulder.

Sam pulls back, puffing a little and stares at Luke’s lips, bites his own.  Luke wants to step back, feels like he should make some room, but the firmness of Sam’s chest and belly is too good, and Sam doesn’t seem to disapprove.

“D’yer wan-” Luke stops, starts again without the slur.  “Do you want to come back to my place?”

Sam doesn’t respond.  Luke can see him thinking, looking at Luke’s neck and shoulder, the tips of his fingers where Sam holds him.

“Not to- I don’t mean- that- we don’t have to do anything,” he explains, “it’s just it’s cold out here and noisy in there…”

“Yeah,” Sam says quietly, mouth still slack.  “Awright.”

Luke steps away and into the alley, and watches Sam turn with him, keeps watching until they’re walking back up the alley side by side.

Sam steals a glance over at Luke as they head for the car, some yards up the street.  Luke’s fighting a smile, trying to hid it.

“What’re you grinnin’ at?” Sam asks.

“Nothin’!” Luke says, all casual and evasive. He shrugs and lets his teeth show.

Then he looks over at Sam as they stride along the path, and Sam’s half smile pulls itself even.  “Fucking what?” Sam asks.

Luke shrugs again.  “Never kissed a guy before,” he confesses and heads around to the driver’s side.  “Don’t half mind my first time’s with the best looking guy I’ve ever met.”

“Oh my god,” Sam groans, and gets into the car.  “You’re smooth as shit, you know that?”

“In fact, you’re the second person I’ve kissed in my adult life,” Luke adds, like did you know butterflies are deaf.

Sam stops and has a good think, breaking the tension with “Well, it didn’t suck.”

“An eight?” Luke hopes cheekily.

“A _six_.”

Luke holds the key in the ignition nodding “I can do better…  You were a five, by the way.”  And Sam’s _Oh what?_ is drowned out by the rev of the engine.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Luke is a firefighter, and he is brave. This is a characteristic for which Sam is very thankful.

The drive back to Luke’s is peppered with talk about music collections (Dean’s, specifically) but the town isn’t that big so Sam’s first choice isn’t even finished before they’re parking.

From the car, Sam looks up at Luke’s beautiful house.  Picture perfect, grey and white, single story, picket fence, gorgeous garden, three bikes leaning beside the shed, two of them small. Luke’s house is in the lot beside your old apartment block, and Sam can’t help but glance up at where he imagines you lived, best he can figure.  Walking up the footpath, he smiles about the whole couch debacle, your guilty-pleasure at first sharing it, Dean’s embarrassment when Sam dropped it at the diner.

“Okay, what are _you_ grinnin’ at?” Luke asks, just about done with unlocking the front door.

“Dean.”  Sam can’t keep the laugh out of his voice.  “I still can’t believe the whole Dawn-Lyook thing.”

Luke chuckles as he opens the door and lets them in. “He was adorable.”  Sam throws his head back to laugh, and Luke makes sure he catches those moments of happiness - the broad smile and dimples, the bouncing Adam’s apple.

At the kitchen counter, Sam takes a stool and lets Luke figure out what he’s going to do.  A beer, a beer each.  Offer something stronger? No.  A beer.  And pretzels.  Where are they?  Or these.  No, they’re kid’s snacks.  Fuck.  Fruit?!  “Are you hungry?” Luke asks, deflecting the decision.

“No, a beer is fine,” Sam says, and Luke takes a breath.

He cracks one bottle, then another, hands one to Sam and Sam asks “Are you nervous?”

“No,” Luke lies, about to drink as cover.  “Why? Do I seem nervous?”

“These aren’t twist tops.”

Luke almost spits the beer back in and glares at his bottle, inspecting the rim, before tweaking to Sam’s joke.  He pouts, nodding, manages to swallow what he’s got and bites his lip to keep from losing it.  “Y’lucky I didn’t snap the neck right off,” he mutters, enjoying Sam’s giggles.  Then he remembers “Actually-”

Luke goes to the fridge and pulls out the leftover box, opening it to Sam.  “Kebab?”  It’s most of a meal - pita bread, lamb, lettuce, tomato, garlic sauce - and Sam might’ve been dismayed at the hint that anything more than a game of cards would be out thanks to garlic breath, if only he weren’t starving too.

Luke gets some forks and napkins, sits at the end of the bench, and they both dig in.  “I try to keep somethin’ spare in the fridge ‘cause I’m always famished after a job.  This was a big serve.”

“Mmm,” Sam nods, talks around the lettuce, “S’a good idea.”

They spear food onto their forks and sip their beers.  Both of them avoid the garlic sauce.

“You’ve got a really nice house.”  Sam’s wiping that last of it from his lips, finishing off his drink.  He’s giving Luke more time.

“Thanks.”  Luke takes the packaging and shoves it into the bin, clears the bottles.  He stands in the middle of the kitchen looking around.  “It’s.  Yeah, we were lucky.  I’ve been lucky.  The boys have started making changes since the divorce, suggestions, themselves.”

“Yeah, like what?”

“I’ll show you.” Luke walks around Sam, down the hall to a room with a TV, foosball and games consoles.  Its windows open onto the back deck. He doesn’t bother turning on the lights - the floodlighting of the backyard reflects well enough, the moon is full and high.   “So, this was like a formal dining room.  And they asked if we could make it a kind of games room, with big doors here,” he gestures at the back wall, now all bi-fold windows, “move the table into the front lounge.”

“It’s awesome.”  Sam stands at the windows and looks at the backyard, a boy’s own wonderland of toys and equipment.

“Yeah, a few of the station guys helped renovate,” Luke grins. “It was just… I dunno.  They suggested it and with everyone we could get it done in a weekend.  Felt like they’d moved on a bit from the divorce.  It was so great to give them just what they’d asked for. Make it theirs.”

Sam smiles at him, and nods.  “I think it’s-” Sam starts.  He gestures at the yard and at Luke.  “I’m glad.  It’s good to hear about someone having things go right, like they should, when they’re a good person.”

Luke takes the compliment, tries to not knock it back or treat it like Sam’s being smooth.  Sam does sincere so completely, he doesn’t want to insult him. “Thanks.  Thank you.”

“Hey I bet the guys at the station enjoy it.”

“Ha, yeah,” Luke kicks at a tub of balls and racquets. “Sometimes it’s not so much a man cave as a man-arena.”

Sam’s eyebrows go up, half-smile slack, and Luke wonders if he could’ve used a better image with that.

Sam turns a little, indicates back over his shoulder, watching Luke.  “Show me the rest of the house?”

“Yeah, sure.”  Luke snaps out of it, gestures back down the hallway, short shy smiles.  He lets Sam follow him, glancing back to see how close he is, undecided on what he’ll do next.

In the semi-darkness, between the stoney shadows behind and the yellow glow ahead, Sam hooks his fingers into Luke’s elbow, pulls him back with a quiet _Hey,_ and Luke is already watching for whatever Sam might throw.

Luke is not cool.  He’s not whatever.  He’s bright eyed and tracking every element of Sam he can catch.  The level brow, clear and sure, his fine features, glorified by the warm and cool lights - one eye golden-amber, the other brassy-green - it’s like a damn metaphor for what’s happening, this point in Luke’s life, where he’s met someone who’s everything he could hope for, brought to him by the darkest things on earth.  Accepted and protected.  And wanted.

Sam crowds him backwards, eyes first, boot toes bumping before Luke feels the wall.

Luke looks down, now wondering how he’s missed this so far - Sam’s wearing one layer -  a mid-sleeved Henley - hair tufty and air-dried at the nape of his neck, and the gold-and-charcoal shadows around his throat, the shape of his chest and shoulders, they’re decadent.  Luke looks down further and sees Sam’s fingers steepled against the wall by his elbows, his forearms tense ropes of tendons and muscles as he props himself away from Luke.

“This okay?” Sam checks.

Luke answers by kissing him.  It’s a plunge, a whole headed dunk into what he wants, and he stops almost as soon as he starts, remembering that Sam’s probably new to this.  Maybe not new to flings, but new to men.  Though just as new as Luke, really, but he probably hasn’t thought about it as much-

Luke stops thinking, stops staring at the lips he just mauled, glances up at Sam’s eyes.  He’s intense.  Not bearing down, or domineering, but to see someone like Sam this close, it’s an intense experience.

“Have you done anything like this before?” Luke asks.

“ _Like_ this, yeah,” Sam says.  “Just not with a guy.”

Luke swallows, understands.  His hands hover by Sam’s waist.  “We don’t have to… do everything.  We don’t have to do anything.  It’s already-”

“How about we just see how we go,” Sam suggests.  His fingers start to relax and he lets himself get closer.  “I’ll tell you if I get uncomfortable.”

“Yeah.  Okay.  You lead.”

Sam nods, noses almost touching.  “And, just so I know,” he checks, “what are you up for?”

Sam leans against Luke, eases his chest forward and lays his palms flat on the wall besides Luke’s elbows.  He keeps leaning, both of them slack and ready for the next kiss.  Sam catches his top lip on Luke’s, shallow breaths waiting, and feels his racing heart while he holds his tongue back, edges it over his lower teeth.

When Luke speaks, he does his best to articulate it.  “Everything.” Sam’s making him mumble before he can finish the word.

And Sam can _kiss_.  He gets his hand up on the uninjured side of Luke’s head, heel of his thumb to the corner of Luke’s jaw, and holds him still so he can taste.  Luke takes Sam’s tongue into his mouth, the preview in the alley so amplified, and he sits back and feels what Sam does inside his head, wet and deft and furnace-hot. Sam’s boney, articulate, with stubble so short it’s almost sharp against Luke’s clean shave, and Luke loves it.

Luke’s lips are thicker than any Sam’s met.  All of him feels bigger, and he wants it, straight away.  Just like he wants the way Luke’s hanging back, would be thudding his head against the wall if he had anywhere to go. Sam can feel Luke’s size through the clothes and he knows, from experience, Luke could throw him down if he wanted.  He’d win the arm wrestle, bench a bit more.  Instead his fingertips are brushing the back of Sam’s ribs while Sam noses into his cheek, and every time Sam does the release-and-catch in the motion of it, Luke’s following Sam’s gaze for signs and tastes.

Sam starts nudging, kissing at Luke’s jaw, pushing his head aside to get below his ear, following his own thumb down to tongue in the dip of the collarbone and bite kisses over the great shoulder muscle.  He grabs Luke’s upper arms, thuds them into the wall and lets go, grabs at his ribs and digs in his fingertips, making Luke grunt reluctantly and pant at the ceiling while Sam goes at his neck.

Sam keeps almost-hurting him, little bites of dark sensation, and Luke doesn’t know what it means. “You wanna fight me or somethin’?” he asks.

“I wanna feel you,” Sam says, standing tall to look him in the eye.  

The ease and lightness Luke carried has long evaporated.  Sam recalls his expression of hours ago when they had him against the car, just this side of death, and it’s similar.  He’s feeling life, Sam thinks, that acute thrum of time and presence.  “I know you’ll be careful,” Sam tells him.  “I’ll tell you if I’m not okay…  Just don’t wanna regret anything you know?”

“I- Sam, I’m not gonna-”

“You’re not gonna break me,” Sam tells him.  He grabs Luke’s wrist to slap the hand on the back of his own neck.  “C’mon, tell me what you really want.”  Sam puts his mouth right in front of Luke’s, ready for instruction.  “I don’t care if it’s dirty.”

Luke clears his throat, flexes his palm so it fits the curve of Sam’s neck, spreads his fingers wide and strong, up Sam’s skull and into his hair. He detects the breath Sam pushes out his nose, the long blink, his reaction to that little flash of strength spidering over the axis of his body. Sam undulates against him, a wave of deadly angles and suggestions, and Luke’s brain starts to blur with the dirty words and the honesty and the wind tossed caution.

“Everything,” Luke repeats.

“Like w-”

“I want you to fuck me,” Luke says, pushing the words out because bravery makes him puff.  Sam closes his eyes at the bass, the depth of it raw and honest.  

“I want to fuck you too.  I want… to know what it feels like when your long legs tangle with mine, what your dick feels like next to mine, what your mouth-”  Luke shakes his head, shutting down the thought.  It’s too much, he thinks, to ask of Sam.

Sam brings him back with another roll of his body against Luke’s, nudging their hard cocks together, encouraging.

“I want to know what your cock tastes like,” Luke manages, and he swallows and shakes his head again, gripping Sam’s head in thanks.  “But honestly, just asking, letting me ask, Sam.  I’ve got no regrets.”

Luke’s other hand has found it’s way to the centre of Sam’s back, and Sam doesn’t have much to reach except Luke’s shoulders, which are almost more than a handful.

“Do you seriously want to do that stuff with me?”  Luke’s trying to keep the plea out of his voice, scared of ruining this.

“I wanna try, at least.”  They’re not the reassuring words Luke hoped for, but Sam keeps rutting into him, keeps nosing, fishing for contact.  “I want you to have me,” Sam teases him with it, quiet and daring. “C’mon.  Fuckin _have_ me, Luke.  I need it.”

Luke’s snatches Sam’s hips, stills them with his tight grip, and he sees the corner of Sam’s mouth twitch hungrily.  “Okay.”  Luke stands up straight, moving away from the wall and taking Sam with him.  Nose to nose he angles Sam so he can back him into his bedroom.  Sam’s good at following a lead.

It’s a modern room, normally white and dusty blue, but all shadows and silvery now with the moonlight.  

“We’re going to have to start with something though,” Luke insists. “I don’t care what happens, so what do you wanna start with?”

Pushing Sam away a little, Luke pulls at his top, helps him slip it off.  Sam watches Luke gaze at his form, the defined muscles and moss of chest hair.  Luke thinks Sam looks like he could advertise fast food to hipsters, beards to bankers, and sins to saints.  He’s gorgeous, an exemplar, looks smart from the toes up, and Luke’s look gets thirstier the longer it takes.  He drags his fingers down Sam’s abs, hooks them into the jeans and jerks, but Sam pushes back and tugs at Luke’s top in reply.

Luke whips off his button down, then his shirt, without a thought, so caught he is with Sam’s jeans hanging off those hips, the waistband of his underwear snug against his bones.

As Luke’s arms fall back down, shirt thrown aside, Sam’s eyes widen for half a second.  Luke really is goddamn huge.  Bodybuilder huge.  Superhero huge.  You could label each muscle in permanent marker and still have room for comments.  Where Sam has a rangey slimness to his bulk, Luke just fills his clothes.  Not quite The Rock, but shit.  He’s hard.

“That’s ridiculous,” Sam breathes, shaking his head.

Luke smiles, broad and easy, and laughs like Sam says the funniest things.  He hooks a big hand on Sam’s waist, yanks him close and mumbles into his mouth “Fuck, you’re so warm.  Feels so good.”

“Yeah,” Sam says, thinking of how much hotter they’re likely to get.  

Luke starts running his hands over Sam’s body, dragging his palms down the big planes of Sam’s back and along the ripples of his ribs and it feels so nice Sam decides to give it back. Luke’s body is all trepidation for Sam.  His fingers dip one by one as they run over Luke’s muscles, the size even more apparent under Sam’s large hands, and he frowns and swallows himself casual about it.

Luke pulls away a bit, happy and hungry, taking moments to look at Sam when he can.  He seems to have a mix of delight and lust, his smile always ready to kiss, chuckle always there.  It makes Sam smile, and makes him want to give.

The sound of leather slaps across the room, then the jingle of a buckle, and Luke feels himself jostled as Sam opens his jeans and pushes them aside.  He sucks in a breath at the feel of Sam pushing on his cock, through the fabric of his briefs, and gives a short moan of relief.  It’s been a long time since he felt someone else’s hands on himself, and never ones so big.

Sam works the waistband down, gets two hands in there to push the fabric half down the rise of Luke’s ass and guide his cock out.  Sam wraps his fingers around it and curses in his mind.   _I can’t get my mouth around that,_ he thinks, actually looking down to be sure.

Luke’s swaying under Sam’s tight grip, eyes closed and jaw tight with pleasure, interrupted by what Sam’s doing to him.  Sam feels the not-uncommon impulse to show off.  He drops to one knee, fists the jeans like he’s shirtfronting someone and pulls Luke’s cock into his mouth.

“Fuck!” Luke slaps a hand on Sam’s shoulder, moves his foot to steady.  “Shit! Fuck!”

Sam’s never really blown anyone before, but it’s not as alien as he expected.  Maybe because he likes Luke so much, whatever, he doesn’t care.  Right now he just likes the smell of this guy, musky and clean, and he kinda likes the sting in the corners of his mouth.  He thinks of the times he’d thought praise at a girl, thoughts far dirtier than he’d ever say aloud - _You take that so well, take it deep, fuckin’ open up for me, swallow me_ \- and revels in the idea of Luke saying them to him now.  He also kinda likes the fact that Luke’s too nice to say anything like that just yet, not unless Sam asked.

It takes all of Sam’s sensibilities to not overdo it and choke himself.  He nibbles around the head, drags his grip up the shaft, and laps at the slit.  He doesn’t love the taste, but he loves the feel, the heavy, dumb weight of Luke’s cock on the back of his tongue, making his throat feel small.  He sucks rhythmically on the end, bobs just a little, and pulls the rest with a soft hand.

“Sam,” Luke regains the power of speech.  “Sam, fuck.”  He starts pulling on his shoulder, asking him to stand.  “I’m gonna fuckin’ come already you keep on with that-”

Sam lets go, lets Luke yank him up, and watches, swaying, as Luke undoes Sam’s pants with a swiftness that probably rivals Dean’s.  Luke ducks for a kiss, or something like it, nudging Sam’s face to meet his own and reaching with his mouth.  

Sam’s absently feels his jeans shoved while they kiss, the belt’s weight pulling them down past his briefs, fingertips digging under the elastic, sliding gracefully over each cheek to lower the fabric.  The first he really knows about his pants being down is when a great fist grabs his cock, warm and firm, making him suck a breath in surprise, and then Luke’s stepped forward to hold Sam’s waist and their cocks are together, the both of them, flush against each other in Luke’s strong grip.  He pulls up their dicks, dragging the skins of their sacks together and tangling the hair.

Sam slaps a hold onto Luke’s arm and shoulder and bursts “Ohshit!”  He looks down, the stoney light bouncing off Luke’s massive arm as he clutches their cocks, the bunching muscles full of promise and delicious threat.  “Shitshitshitshit,” Sam breathes, knocking his forehead against Luke’s and feeling anchored, like he may as well have his hands tied behind his back.

God he wants his hands tied behind his back.

Next time.  “W-  Whaddy’want,” Sam puffs.

Luke pulls again, slow and tight and he groans with it, a deep grinding groan that makes Sam shiver.

Sam can’t stop looking at them together.  He doesn’t notice that Luke’s looking too, mouths slack, heads heavy.  He feels like Luke’s daring him, like his body can take anything that Sam will challenge.  It makes Sam want that dirty talk, he wants the mercy, but it’s way too soon for that sort of fantasy for either of them, so instead he offers an open cheque.  “Tell me what you really want Luke,” Sam manages.  He’s puffing through his nose, frowning and bumping their temples together.

“Would you let me fuck you?” Luke asks.  He asks so kindly, as kind as he can with the word fuck in there.

“Yes,” Sam answers, nodding to back it up.  “Yeah, I’m okay with that.”

Luke releases his hold, pulls Sam against him and kisses him again, full and grateful, with sweet hands that stroke and arms hard with want, their early juices smeared into their bellies.“You sure?”

Sam thinks about it, thinks about his ass and realises he’s been clenching it, making it swallow on nothing for he doesn’t know how long.  “Yeah, I’m sure.”

“Okay so,” Luke thinks aloud, “if it makes it easier, I could just tell you what to do.”

“Either way,” Sam shrugs.  “You’ve probably thought about this longer than I have.”

“I’m pretty frikken confident that’s true.”  Luke’s smirk is low.  “If you… get on the bed.  I’ll distract you while I…  Uh get you ready.”

Sam looks at Luke in the amazingly crisp moonlight reflected in the bedroom.  Luke’s eyelashes seem drawn on, his jaw line stupidly chiselled.  “You mean, you’re going to suck me off while you finger my ass open enough for your dick,” Sam checks.  “Just to be clear.”

Luke frowns at him curiously.  “I thought you hadn’t done this before.”

“I’m a reader.”

“Oh okay,” Luke nods loosely.  “Then yeah, nude up and get your ridiculously perky butt on my bed so I can fuck you.”  He almost chokes on his own grin.

While Luke goes to his ensuite and collects some things, Sam toes off his boots and pushes off his jeans before climbing into the bed, sort of laying, propped on one elbow.  He half watches Luke put things aside - condoms, lube, water - and clear a few things off the bed before getting his own gear off.

Sam has a theory about perspective, or judgement, when it comes to your own body.  It’s like a unit of self (he’s been calling it autometry) and it happens in a deep part of his brain, little cognitive whispers he notices that trigger warnings and information.  When his feet are higher off the ground than his height, for instance, it feels like he is ‘significantly high for Sam’.  It’s the part of his brain that says _You can’t reach that,_ or _That’s too much on your plate_ , or _You won’t fit in there_.  So right now he’s having a good hard think about Luke’s cock and feeling a deep cognitive concern about proportions.

But then Luke smiles at him and looks at the bed like a kitten who’s never jumped this far before, and Sam remembers he also trained himself to be unafraid of heights.  Maybe thicknesses are next.

Luke, ever the brave, crawls up Sam’s body, lightly slapping his calf so he’ll move his legs apart, and leans on his fists to tower over Sam.  He doesn’t waste time figuring out how to start, just leans down and kisses, slow and heavy, like he wants to, because Sam’s big and he’ll push back if he needs.

Luke slides his knuckles down Sam’s stomach, over the ripples and lean frame, smiling into the kiss about his luck with this guy, and reaches down to the gully of his thigh and groin.  He drags the back of his hand up and down the inner leg, lets his finger push in next to the perineum and lays a hot hand there, thumb under Sam’s balls, fingering the puckered skin where the elastic was, and warming the tendon of his leg.

Luke starts to massage, and Sam wonders what he’s doing, but Luke eases the warm pressure into the junction, working the muscles, smoothing the flesh, moving everything in rhythmic, circular waves as he kisses Sam like it’s the easiest thing he’s ever done.  

Sam’s frowning now, slackening under Luke’s firm motions, his erection relaxing too and sliding sideways like it’s just going to take a minute here…

Sam can’t believe he’s never thought to do this before.  It’s so relaxing…  It feels _fabulous_ -

“What?” Luke asks, wondering why Sam stopped kissing.

“…Nothing.”  Fuck it, it does feel fabulous.  He’s almost disappointed when Luke decides he’s finished.

“You relaxed a bit?” Luke asks.  

Jesus, Luke’s a good looking guy.  “Y-heah,” Sam breathes, slack-happy and surprised.  He tries to let that feeling linger, let himself lay still.

“Good.”  Luke’s tone seems deeper, and he swallows before adding.  “Let me know how I go, okay?”

“I will,” Sam promises.  In his own mind, he imagines Luke is struggling to be slow, to hold himself back, that he’s imagining just throwing Sam around and ravishing him, saying dark, possessive things…  Sam starts to make a list for next time.

Luke kisses Sam again and starts running his lips down Sam’s body, slow easy laps at his chest, even slower attention to his nipples - Luke’s got a thing for them, Sam decides. He almost eats out each abdominal muscle as he goes, threatening Sam’s lax state with the tickle.

“So fuckin sexy Sam,” Luke tells him.  “Your body… s’fuckin perfect.”

“I woulda thought I’s a bit smaller than the guys you see at the station.”

“Mm. Nice to look at, not really my type.”

 _Don’t ask, don’t ask, don’t frikken ask this you desperate idiot_.  “What’s your type then?”

“Less vain,” Luke mumbles, getting down to the V-line of Sam’s lower abdomen.  “More natural, and smart.”

Sam hazards a look down, and can’t say what he feels when he sees Luke over him, nosing into the pale skin of his hip as his shoulders and arms hold him up.  His muscles, his fucking muscles don’t even fit when he’s like this.  And Sam can see the line of his neck as he cranes sideways, his jaw working, eyes closed, and he looks beautiful.

Luke tucks his arms under Sam’s legs, settles down against the bed, and nuzzles his way into the curls down there, humid and wiry.  “You still relaxed?”

“Yeah, you’re good at this.”

Here’s a flush of warm air, then Sam feels his right nut engulfed in heat. He sucks air through his nose and tries to breathe out every thought with it because, holy hell, that feels nice.

Luke rolls his tongue against the loose skin, massages it with dumb, toothless bites and licks his way around the seams. He’s here, he thinks, finally getting a face full of a man who’s not just attractive but excellent and trusting. He’d do just about anything Sam asked, so strong is his gratitude, and he pretty much will too.

Sam loses track of time under the extreme indulgence of having his balls sucked by someone who knows what balls like. He lets thought fall silent and consciousness float and it isn’t until Luke’s mouthing around the base of his cock that he even moves a finger.

Luke spends so long there, Sam’s about to tell him that he’s fine, okay to go. But then he hears a small splurging sound, the pump of the lube, and feels movement below his cheeks, against the bed. Knuckles work long soothing stripes from his balls to his ass and he shifts his knees apart for it.

A finger, cool and slippery, presses against him. There it waits, pacing the gate with small firm circles.

“Do you think you could hold your legs back?” Luke asks.

Sam lifts them, hooks his hands behind his knees and eases his hips into the tilt. “Like this?”

“Yep, just like that.”  Luke pushes a pillow under Sam’s hips, tilting him up.

“It’s elegant, huh,” Sam comments, a flare of nerves making him awkward.

“Oh yeah, you’re a fuckin’ butterfly,” Luke smirks and Sam laughs a bit, taking a few deep breaths and focusing on how sweet it feels.

“I gotcha Sam,” Luke soothes. “Okay? I’ll look after you.”

“Yea- Oh-!” Luke’s pushed inside a little, just one finger, and run his tongue up Sam’s cock. It feels good, really good, and Sam tells himself that it’s _not that good_ to keep from jumping ahead.

Luke licks and sucks, nothing fancy, just a steady niceness.  Enough to distract Sam away from the growing depth of his fingers.

It’s a weird feeling for Sam, intrusive yet tempting, and once Luke’s in there, past the resistance and into Sam’s body, he wants more.  He can’t rock down though, can’t scoop and delve like he would with a woman, he can only take it, make noises of encouragement, and hope Luke can read his mind.

“I’m gonna take my time here,” Luke tells him.  Sam’s replying grunt is equal parts gratitude and frustration.  “Can’t afford to go to fast.  It’ll only end in tears.”

“Naw, it’s fine,” Sam assures him.  “You -uhGod-”

Luke adds more lube and starts to move his finger with a circular motion, sliding pressure around the ring, and drinks in Sam’s sounds.  He laves his tongue up Sam’s cock again, slips his mouth over the end and takes him in, rolling his tongue underneath as a distraction to the second finger.

“Oh Jesus,” Sam sighs, making a conscious effort to relax his body a little more, ease the joints and loosen his jaw.  “That feels amazing.”  He knows Luke is avoiding his prostate and appreciates it too, but it doesn’t keep him from pushing his hips every time he comes close.

Of course if he chances it, he’ll just cancel out the pressure. Luke’s hand on the milky skin of his thigh reminds him to give in, take it, take the pleasure and heat, let his legs be heavy even as his quivering gut pulls on his tendons, and listen to the feeling of a larger-than-normal mouth, with stronger-than-normal hands, pull and drag and suck on his cock. He starts to feel Luke’s rhythm and the direction of his hand, noticing only after it happens that he’s started to sweat and buzz, and he reacts by curling everything.

“What’s wrong?” Luke asks, noting the change.

“Nothing,” Sam answers quickly, “I just lost track of how good it feels. I think-” Sam looks down at Luke crouched over him, cropped hair askew, his muscles seeming airbrushed in the dusty moon light.  “I won’t need much more.  Is that okay?”

“You wanna finish like this?”

“I know I said-”

“It’s fine.” Luke is up there and kissing Sam before the apology can come.  “This is more than I coulda hoped for Sam.  Seriously, I’m fucking happy.”

Sam huffs half a laugh, his throat still swallowing on the feeling of Luke’s fingers deep inside him.  “Ugh,” he winces, “that’s good news. But- oh fuck-” Sam releases his knees and holds onto Luke’s shoulder, up the back of his neck, and pushes his chest up to feel the heat of that body sting him.  Luke tilts down, drags his chest over Sam’s and smiles at the grating feel of hair between them.  He’s so hard, Luke thinks, strong and long, hairy and tough, and Luke leans back a bit to watch Sam, look at lengths of his neck leading from hard jawline to broad chest, and at how thrown he is - thrown onto the bed, into pleasure.

“Has anyone ever done anything like this to you?” Sam pants, not bothering to open his eyes.

“No, I uh, I have a few toys,” Luke confesses, drags his nose along Sam’s jaw as he tries to get his fingers deeper, scissors them a bit, still avoiding properly fucking Sam’s ass just yet.  “I can reach a bit.”

“You have to feel this,” Sam says, looking at Luke through his distraction.  “I’m returning the favour coz I don’t know whe-en I’m gonna be ba- back- fuck, what are you doing?”

Luke grins, gives another firm push so that the knuckles of his fist push up around Sam’s hole, and he fucks himself alongside Sam’s cock, a slippery thrust and drag and makes Sam suck in air.

“Alright then,” Luke decides, “I’m gonna make you come-” Oh god, he’s waited such a long time to say that to a guy, to anyone who really wanted to hear it from him. “And I’m gonna try to not blow my load at how beautiful that’s going to be.”

He pushes a generous kiss into Sam’s mouth and Sam frowns into it, giving back and taking air as Luke leads himself back down Sam’s body, straight to his dick, picking up where he left off.

Luke isn’t gentle, or at least he’s not shy.  He takes Sam’s cock like his tastebuds are behind his tonsils and moans when he can, sliding his fingers over Sam’s prostate.  He feels Sam’s hands slip onto his head, tight and hot, Brailling the sounds he hears with every twitch and scratch, before grabbing his knees again and riding the rhythm as Luke gives him more.  Then it’s every stroke, and Sam’s just deep gasps, begging legs, there fast and loose and coming before he’s really gotten a handle on it all.

Luke pumps a few times, wanting to wash his mouth with the bitterness.  He’s had a dildo for a while, he’s felt his own ass flutter around his knuckles, but this you can’t mail order (he assumes).  This is Sam’s cum, warm and thick, and so uniquely human Luke could fucking suck it from his balls.

“Oh! Jesus!” Sam’s hand ghosts over Luke’s head, so he doesn’t hold too hard, but the rest of him is curled and straining as the aftershocks are tugged from his ass.  “Fuck Luke! Hoh Christ!”

Slowly Sam drops away, and Luke pulls his fingers from his friend, rubbing the tips around the puckering muscle, smiling down at Sam’s dick as it lays a few degrees off the treasure trail.  It looks how Sam sounds.

Luke sits back on his heels and looks at what he’s done to the man on his bed.  He feels proud and accomplished.  Not that getting a guy to come is that much of a challenge, but Sam does look pretty happy right now.  He looks like a dream come true.

With warm palms on Sam’s slumped thighs, Luke leans down and starts kissing from hip to ribs, up over Sam’s chest and into the shadow behind his ear.  He’s salty, musky, and humming his thanks.

Luke lays down for the recovery time, on his side so he can see Sam. There’s no way his cock’s letting him sleep and thankfully Sam never seems to consider dozing off either.  He’s not nuzzling or dragging fingertips about, just lays a heavy hand on Sam’s ribs and smiles at him when he wakes enough.

After some minutes, Sam lays his hand over Luke’s and gives a drunken smile - half delight, half thought.  Luke’s curiosity shows.

“You gotta let me fuck you,” Sam drawls.

“I- Wh-  Are you sure?” Luke says.  “That’s.  That’s-”

“No, that was over too quick,” Sam smiles, rubbing his belly with adorable unawareness.  “I want more, but… I wanna fuck something.  Something tight.”

Luke’s brow clears with a frankness only surprise can bring.  He looks over Sam’s lazy state and notices that, true to his word, that cock’s not checking out just yet.  “Well fuck yeah, there’s something tight around.”

“Come on, roll over,” Sam says, leaning up and slapping Luke light and shaky, getting himself where he expects to end up. “Where’s that lube?”

“You got eager all of a sudden,” Luke laughs. “Man, you just came - aren’t you tired?!”

“Yeah sorta,” Sam says, reaching over for a condom and rolling it on.  “Come on, don’t look a gift horse in the dick.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It is also in Sam’s nature to be brave, which will have Luke thanking all his lucky stars for a long time yet.

“And here I thought you were modest,” Luke smirks.  He takes Sam’s place, looking down at his own pillows in a way he’s never done before, hands and knees and ass feeling open and exposed.

Sam splurges the lube onto his figures and just as Luke’s taking a few deep breaths, Sam pauses. “…When was the last time… you were… here.”

“Uh, just before I left for the bar.”  Luke glances down at himself, his chest and stomach hovering over the bedspread, knees spread so his pound-heavy cock and burning balls can hang with the torturous weight of being untouched.  “Can you tell?”

“Yeah, a little.”  Sam rubs his palm over Luke’s hip in a large circle, taking a firm hold before putting two fingertips to the pink skin. “You think it’ll be easy for me?”

Luke breathes out his nose again, and hopes, hopes to all the hells, that Sam is some kind of god at this. “I hope so.”

Sam presses, watches, listens for Luke’s breathing and voice as fingertips disappear, then pauses, and presses again.  The slick of the lube makes it easy; the give of his ass practically makes it cheating.  Luke’s body seems to take him in, and as much as Sam can feel the hug and hunger, two fingers does seem not enough for what’s before him.  Sam starts to move, testing the push with the other knuckles butted up against the crease, thumb to the coccyx, and Luke grunts shortly, enough to make Sam push for longer, lean his body forward, and Luke moans, drops his head, and starts pacing himself.

Sam pulls back and feels around inside, searching for any change in texture, and thinks of that tightness on his cock, moves his fingers out and in, mapping it out, imagining it better, and brushes against Luke’s prostate.

“Ah! Ohfuck, not too much,” Luke puffs.  “Just… fuck.”

“Let me know when you want me to try,” Sam says, his palm flat and kind on the plain of Luke’s lower back.

“Yeah.  Maybe… Oh fuck Sam,” Luke rocks back and shakes his head.  “You have no idea how much I want you to fuck me.”

Sam’s fingers disappear so fast it sends a shudder up Luke’s back.  He stares at the pillow and adjusts his fists, listening to the tearing foil and slip of skin and latex.  Hot hands hold his hips, drag down so the palms sit moulded to the cheeks, and he shifts his knees when they’re bumped apart a little, noticing then how his heart it throwing itself around.  Sam is going to fuck him.  Sam.  Sam who just flicks the hair from his shining, blood-spotted brow, who saved Luke from an actual vampire, who moved him so gently under the street light.  Sam who’s a hero in ways Luke doesn’t even want to imagine.

There’s the blunt nudge, so much fatter than the dildo he’s used to, slippery and out of his control, and Luke stops still to take it.

With a firm grip on the base of his cock, Sam holds Luke’s hip steady and pushes, against the slick opening, concentrating on the angle.  He slips in, eases forward, and feels a rush up to his neck at the constant resistance. It’s so tight, so hot, and as soon as the head is properly in he leans, leans and pulls and shucks Luke’s ass right up against his balls with a tripped Oh-ho-ho sound he can’t keep in, digging his fingertips into Luke’s hips lest he tip over and faceplant himself.

Luke sucks in a full breath, right through his teeth, gasping “Aah! _Christ!_ ” and puts a hand over Sam’s.

“You okay?” Sam checks.  “I’m sorry, I-”

“No, oh _fuck_!” Luke walks his fist into hands and back again.  He wants more, wants movement and friction, and can’t keep still with it.  

He’s head up, arching, groaning for it, curling back.  Sam offers his cock, adjusting with a shy nudge…

“Move Sam, please do something.”

“Are you okay?” Sam checks again.

Luke’s puffing now, curling and grinding by scant inches at the depth of a burning, hard and large cock inside him.  “I’m _fucking_ good!”  He sounds cross.  “Please!”

Sam does as he’s told, pulling back a little and pushing forward, assured by Luke’s hand on his and the hungry _Mmm!_ between the puffs.

It’s amazing.  There isn’t a millimeter of give from Luke, and although Sam’s hard, he’s not holding off like Luke must be.  He reminds himself that he doesn’t expect to come this time, so starts listening for Luke, letting him set the pace.

Again Sam makes a shallow thrust - inch out, inch in - and ruts a little at the depth, feels Luke’s muscles push into the tops of his thighs, then drags his hands down Luke’s ribs and waist, enjoying the long, hard hum of Luke coping.

“Okay, I’m gonna start proper,” Sam explains.  “You want me to just go for it? You wanna finish like this.”

Luke takes a few deep breaths, rib cage barreling large, and he sits up, grunting with it, leaning up tall in a way that makes Sam think of a centaur.  It sends a boyish thrill through him as Luke’s arm reaches back so he can kiss Sam over his shoulder.  Sam pulls him close, feels Luke’s heart under his palm, taut stomach under fingers before he slides his touch down and takes hold of Luke’s dick again as they kiss and pant.

Sam says, “Shuffle forward with me,” and tucks Luke against him nice and tight as they slowly, carefully slide their knees - right, left, right, left.  “Hands on the wall.”

Luke takes the position.  Sam settles in behind again and gives a small thrust.  “This okay,” Sam checks again.

Luke spreads his knees a little wider once more, panting, “Yeah, s’good.”

Sam nuzzles lightly, kisses around Luke’s shoulder and drags his tongue up to the stubbly hair at the nape.  Luke leans back for it again, thankful, starting to shake, wondering if Sam can taste his sweat, wishing he could have Sam’s.

With his left hand holding Luke’s hip hard against his own, Sam pushes his chest up against Luke’s back.  “I’m pretty sure your dildo can’t do this.”  He wraps his right hand around Luke’s cock.

“Oh fuck,” Luke whispers, then “ _Uh!_  Oh God!” as he’s fucked into Sam’s fist.  “Fuck I won’t last!”

“Don’t care.”  Sam thrusts again, biting his lip with pride at Luke’s noises.  

This time he pulls back proper, watching his own cock drag out of Luke’s body and pulls his fist up long so when he fucks - “UH!  Please!” - Sam doesn’t hear himself but he groans heavily, all through the distance he gives Luke.

And Luke doesn’t know how his brain’s going to deal with everything - all the man behind him, those long fingers around him, that fucking perfect cock in his ass, fucking him, fucking so perfectly, pushing against his cheeks, sending pleasure screaming into his balls and up his spine. He wants to take it so well but he can’t help hitching back a bit, jerking himself back and forth for more.

Again Sam pulls and drives, feeding Luke into his grip, and this time he doesn’t stop.  He thrusts, feeling the long tug and swallow down his length, like it’s his own hand on his cock but so, so, so much better than anything he’s ever given himself.  

Luke lasts long enough for Sam to be impressed, and then long enough for Sam to lose his own rhythm and start doubletime with his hand, making Luke bash a fist on the wall before he matches the rhythm again.  Twice then is enough, a generous _fuck-fuck_ and Sam feels Luke give, the quiver and pulse and the mess over his hand all familiar and sloppy, and shudderingly loud.

Sam pushes in, holds himself there, biting his lip over the sensations running over his cock and thinks he’s come again too.  He does sometimes, in sympathy, but Luke’s got such a strong hold on his wrist he’s not game to move and find out, not for a few seconds yet.

The moon has shifted now, but the dark shine of sweat is still beautiful in what light is left.  Slowly Sam withdraws, sits back on his heels and leads Luke to do the same, into his lap.  He’s puffing too, but he’s giving all his attention to Luke, even if he feels a bit small behind him.  Neither of them are little spoons really.

A gentle pat-pat on Luke’s chest is how Sam checks-in, and Luke holds it there, asking Sam to hug him a while.  He rests his chin on the bone of Luke’s shoulder looking at his clumped eyelashes and kicked out bangs like they’re icons of vulnerability.

“You ruined that pillow,” Sam comments.

Luke huffs a laugh, licks his lower lip between his teeth while he’s still panting.  “That was my ex’s.”

“Who knew a good fuck could be so poetic.”  Sam rests his mouth on Luke’s shoulder, checking he’s okay a second before pulling away to remove the condom. Luke gets to the edge of the bed, limbs heavy and languid, and gingerly makes his way to the ensuite to sort out some wet and dry towels for them both.

“You want me, um.  I don’t mind if you-” Sam thumbs at the door even though Luke can’t see him, offering to sleep in another room, or house.  “If you want the bed to yourself-”

“What? No!” he returns from the bathroom, handing things to Sam while he dries his own ass. “I fully expected you to stay.  If you want to, that is.  It’s a bit intimate.  And you’re not, like, my boyfriend.”

“No, I know.  Thanks,” Sam says, cleaning and drying himself.  He’s starting to feel tiredness pull on him.  He puts on his briefs and Luke does the same as Sam reiterates,  “It’s your house man.  Whatever you prefer.”

Luke takes the towels and tosses them into the bathroom, then grabs hold of Sam’s forearm and pulls him close.  He thumps his hold across Sam’s back, and Sam can’t keep his arms from curling up around Luke too.  “I don’t want to lay there and wonder about you sleeping somewhere else tonight.  You’re too good.”

Sam takes the compliment and, while Luke removes the wet pillows, he settles into a position he’s comfortable with, and quickly finds it hard to stay awake and wait.

“I’mma sleep like a fuckin log,” Luke murmurs, shutting the blinds and sliding under the covers.  He flops onto his tummy, adjusts himself so the plasters on his neck pull a little less, and looks at Sam, the line of his cheek bone and brow.  Luke keeps himself from feeling those arm muscles too.  

“Thank you,” Luke tells him, all soft and honest in the afterglow.  “I’ve thought of you, a lot, but I… shit I think I maybe dreamed for something that good.”

“Thank you for-” Sam can’t narrow down what he’s grateful for.  He couldn’t have hoped for anything better either.  “For being so easy.”

“HAhahaha!” Luke laughs, full and hearty, knowing full well Sam doesn’t mean promiscuous, but something else.  It’s the same feeling he has.  “Okay, oh man.  You sleep good.”

“You too,” says Sam. Both of them are snoring within 10 seconds.

…

“You okay?” Luke’s tentative.  He doesn’t want to make drama first thing the morning after.  “You’re not asleep.”

“Naw… I’m.” Sam’s mouth is mooshed into the pillow, long hilly arms hugging it under his face.  He lifts his head and turns to Luke.  “Just thinkin’ about Dean.  Dealing with Dean.”

“You think he’s gonna give you shit?”

“If he figures it out… I dunno,” Sam deflates.  “I just can’t be bothered if he’s all _So you’re bi_.”

“He didn’t know?” Luke talks to the ceiling, to keep it safe.

“I didn’t know.”  Sam drops his head and snuggles into the perfectly warm bedding.  “I don’t know that I am.”

Luke frowns.  He peers at Sam without turning his head, waiting to see if he’ll correct himself.  But he doesn’t, so, nonchalantly as Luke can, he says “Uh, think y’ might be somethin’.”

“Not generally.”

“What?”

“I’m not really into guys, in general.  I hadn’t even considered it,” he explains drowsily, eye’s blinking adorably until they give up and close.

“You never considered guys?”

“No.”

“None of them.”

“No- Not-” Sam talks like his eyes are open, half into the pillow again, eyebrows working.  “I considered it with you, just not guys.”

“I’m a guy.”

“Will you knock it off?”

“What do you mean _Considered it with me?_ When was that?”

“When we met! You know when we met!”

“That was over a year ago!”  Luke’s got his head turned to Sam now, grinning at Sam’s embarrassment.

“I know, okay!  I’m just bi for you!  Alright?!”

 _And he’s considered it_ , Luke thinks, _since then_.  He wants more of Sam.  Maybe Sam would do the morning snuggly thing Luke’s dreamed of with Dean.  But he also has a stomach to fill and kids to collect and the day has to start.  “Invite him over for breakfast.”

Sam opens his eyes.  “Yeah, okay.”

…

“Hey.”  Dean answers quick and bright.  “You guys had a good time last night.”

“Yeah, we did,” says Sam.  He’s running directly at this.

“You find a couple of enthusiastic locals?”

“Nope.”  Okay, not that directly.

“Oh.”  Dean tries again, phone tucked against his ear as he packs.  “Y’just hang out and catch up?”

“Nope.”

“Well what the hell _did_ ya do?” he scoffs, but there’s no answer.  And it’s not Sam lost for words, it’s Sam answering without words.  

Dean stops and thinks.  He throws down the bag and frowns thoughtfully at the wall, pressing the phone against his head while he figures it out.

“Luke’s inviting you over for breakfast.  Be here in 40?”

“Y- yeah, I can- Sure-”

“And Dean?”

“Yeah.”

“Don’t be an ass.”

Dean frowns for a long time.

…

“We got 35 minutes before he gets here,” Sam announces.  “Sorry, you mind if I come in?”

“No, no that’s fine,” Luke calls over the shower curtain.  

“I mean into the shower.”

“…Sure.”

Sam peeks inside the curtain, then steps into the tub, watching Luke hug the hot stream against his chest.  He doesn’t miss the chub of his cock nudging full, fuller with each heartbeat.  What he really notices, though, is the ridiculous perfection of him.  Luke’s body, wet and lathered?  Sam’d be intimidated if he wasn’t so drawn to it.  

Luke’s ass is like lacquered perfection, shiny and pert, and his anatomy is envious, just as large and strong as Sam saw last night, but now slippery, soapy, and Luke’s actually shy.  It’s beyond endearing - it’s goddamned seductive.

“Is this the shot they do for the calendar?” Sam smirks, standing close enough to get the mist off Luke’s body.

Luke laughs, cheeks high with happiness.  Sam’s dragging his hand through Luke’s hair, pulling him close for a kiss that slurps from the water running down Luke’s face, and to be fair, he does feel drunk on his good fortune.

He presses himself to Luke’s body and their big feet make warping noises on the tub enamel as they turn to each other. Luke grabs at Sam, holds him so he can tuck his cock in next to his and ruts to crush them close.

Sam can’t get enough of the factual, that their balls are at the same height, so their hair slides and grazes, and Luke must feel the same sensitive skin do-si-do as they rub back and forth. The rise of their thighs match so they slip off each other, into the grooves, when they press hard. And their nipples almost meet, Luke’s being set a little wider, so Sam twists his body brushing the points, little Eskimo Kisses above the _ba-dum, ba-dum_ of their ribs and abs bumping.  They grin at each other, pull kisses from each others smiles, and Sam starts to get properly wet.

“Here,” says Luke, “do this.”  He pumps a dollop of shower soap into his hand and smears it well, then slips his grip over the both of them, just like he did last night.

Sam closes his eyes and groans at the slick tightness, so decadent and sweet.  Luke looks at how much darker the stubble is this morning, much more like his chest.  It makes him think of an outdoor shower, at the bright beach, or dappled forest, deciding that outdoors is really where Sam belongs.

The shlucking sounds go on under the noise of water spray, and Luke turns them a little, trying to get Sam more wet.  That Last Moments flavour creeps into his mouth and he starts thinking of all the things he wanted to do with Sam, all the ways he wanted to see him before he disappeared again, and he drags his fingers through Sam’s locks, brushing his hair back and cupping the back of his neck to tilt.

Sam lets him, lifts his chin easily, and feels the warm spray pour down his neck and chest.  Luke dives for it, open kisses on the lengths of muscles before him, pausing all that jerking off and just mashing his hand between them.  Sam grunts a bit and Luke tilts him more, uses his hair to pull his head back, opening his jaw right by Luke’s eye, Sam’s tongue pulsing he struggles to swallow.

Luke starts to jerk, tight and steady, holding Sam so he can kiss and bite at his neck ( _not_ like a vampire, _not_ like a vampire, he thinks) but mostly so when he does get up enough speed and he feels Sam fuck into his fist a few times, he can hear Sam come, low in his throat, deep though his nose, biting on the shoulder muscle to keep himself quiet and listen.

There’s the cleaning, and the flushing away (so much cum with two), and the taking turns in the spray to warm and wash, and all through it Sam’s quite past his surprise, shyly smiling and rolling his eyes.  Luke’s grinning like an idiot.  “Well, now I can go see your stupidly hot brother without blowing my load.”

That does surprise Sam.  “I’m pretty sure… I don’t think he’s into guys.”

“Maybe the right guy hasn’t asked.”  Luke nudges Sam’s shoulder, to stir, grinning and lathering his abs.  “Don’t be jealous,” Luke says, shrugging it off.  “I mean, he’s a good looking guy, but he’s a complete dork.”

Sam bursts out laughing, leans back for it, and Luke cups his jaw so he can smack a casual kiss on the other cheek before getting out.

…

Dean’s anxious at the door but Luke answers with such easy brightness he doesn’t get a chance to worry about it.

“You’re early!” Luke says, smacking Dean on the back for a solid bro hug.

“Dude, I’m still thinking about that last fry up,” Dean smiles. “You bet I’m early.”

Luke laughs like all he has is Sundays and strolls back to the kitchen.  Dean follows him, seeing Sam at the counter, his bag by the couch.  He chucks his brother a nod and doesn’t need to look too carefully to see that he’s okay - a bit nervous, but okay.

They chat and shuffle around, standing at the counter to eat - Dean even uses a knife and fork so it takes longer. “This fucken bacon man.  Did ya sweet talk this pig?”

“Bought her a drink and everything,” Luke smiles. “How long till you guys gotta leave?”

“Not long,” Dean answers.  Sam knows he means they’re late.

“Okay, me too, just let me get something.”  Luke wipes his hands down his jeans and jogs out of the room.

Dean wastes no time getting down to it.  “How are you?”

“What? Yeah!  Yeah I’m fine-” Sam’s quick to answer, not expecting to have Dean checking on him.  “Are you?”

“Yeah!” Dean assures him, a little too hard.  “I mean I am, I’m fine.  You do you, you know?”

“You don’t mind that I…” Sam gestures at the bedroom, not knowing what gesture, exactly, would be clear yet tasteful.

“No! No man!” Dean brushes it away, honestly this time. “Really, whaddo I got to mind about.  I mean it’s Luke!”

Sam frowns curiously. “What does that mean?”

Dean raises his eyebrows, hunched and showing Sam things with open hands. “Luke! You know! He’s-  He’s really good!”

Sam considers pulling Dean’s chain about it, forgetting that he already is.  “Have I gone and cut your lunch or somethin’?”

Deans unimpressed.  “That’s rude; I’m taken-”

“Didn’t say _Not Interested_ ,” Sam points out.  “Didn’t say-”

“Hey! I’m _not_.  It’s just Luke is one of the best people we know.  You could be his Chief Ass Licker and I wouldn’t mind.”

Both of them freeze, glaring in all directions simultaneously.  

Sam’s the first to break: “Well.  I’m not.  That.”  Yet.

Dean closes his eyes and lets his brain kick itself in the head.  “You know what I mean.”

Sam lets a few seconds pass, glancing at the door before he mutters, “You so have a crush.”

“Shut the fuck up-”

“You guys should have this.” Luke’s back, and Sam’s rolled his eyes back into his head, Dean’s standing up straight, both of them listening hard to whatever Luke’s brought.

“What’s that?” Dean asks.

“Sorry, it was buried back in the wedding gifts.  It’s scotch. Scottish scotch.” Luke puts it on the counter between the brothers, explaining “It was a gift from my brother-in-law - he’s, uh, like a jet-setter banker jerk type - and I dunno.  We just never had a good excuse to crack it.”

Dean picks up the box and pursues the impressive credentials.   _This will go very nicely_ , he thinks.

“Tell you what,” Sam says.  “We’ll save it for when you visit us, in Lebanon.”

Luke grins broad, looks right at Sam and says “Alright.”

Luke’s practically glowing and Dean’s chest tightens with a giggle he doesn’t leak.  Thank goodness too because Sam’s all sweet about this guy and doesn’t know where to look.

“I’ll see you out,” says Luke and starts for the door.

Heavy handshakes and slapping hugs, it’s casual and open as they say goodbye.  No lingering embraces, but no great need for it either.  They’re happier to smile at each other and mean it when they say “I’ll see ya,” “Anytime,” and “Look after yourself.”

Once the impala’s on the next street, Sam cracks “Okay, I saw that.  What’s so fucking funny?”

“What, back there?” Dean points, meaning at the counter.  “Nothing!”

“Bullshit, you practically swallowed your own tongue.” Sam’s a bit cross.  “Why were you laughing at Luke.”

“I wasn’t laughing at _Luke_ ,” Dean groans.  “He was just so… shiney!  Seriously I’ve never seen a girl smile at you like that!”

“You realise that’s the first time he’s done anything about being bi,” Sam snaps, growing hot with consciousness for his own situation.

“Hey, I know!” Dean surrenders.  “A lotta firsts, all round.  It’s not that.  I just thought it was kinda sweet you… seem to have found your talent there.”  He chuckles.  “With guys.”  Then he laughs, “You got some time to make up little bro!”

Sam slumps into his seat and stares out the window, not the least bit comforted by the fact that Dean’s acceptance of Sam’s fluid sexuality doesn’t change that he’s still a big brother.  “Huuuuh you’re such a jerk.”

“Aaahahaha! _Aaaa_ hahaha!” Dean can’t even get the word out.


End file.
